Want
by The Qilin
Summary: [Arekan] NSFW, PWP, oneshot. Complete. "Allen-f*king-Walker is a devil. A human devil. A teasing, grinning devil that knows the full effect he has on people. That's what Kanda thinks. He is nineteen. He's an Exorcist. He shouldn't be distracted..."


_Characters: Allen/Kanda_

_Warnings: Post-battle sex. Shower sex. Angry sex._

_Author's Notes: So I saw this on the old kink meme— "_ _After a mission, Kanda masturbates in the shower to thoughts of Allen and is angry at himself for being attracted to him. Allen overhears Kanda and decides to help him out by thoroughly fucking him against the shower wall. Bonus: Allen still wearing his shirt, Kanda being resistant at first, Allen licking at Kanda's tattoo/seal thing_ _" —and I thought I might as well give it a try. So it's a sort of "first-time sex" thing._

* * *

**Want**

Allen-fucking-Walker is a devil. A human devil. A teasing, grinning devil that knows the full effect he has on people.

That's what Kanda thinks. He is nineteen. He's an Exorcist. He shouldn't be distracted by the hips of one skinny beansprout with old man's hair. Neither should he be distracted when Allen goes shirtless and does his exercises, like those weird one-armed push-ups. And then there was the fucking way that beansprout eats. Mouthful after mouthful, without a pause. Did he ever choke? But it's the way he licks each dish clean that draws Kanda's attention, as well as the pleased look on his face when he's done.

One fucking sixteen-year-old is the cause of vivid dreams and mortifying mornings. He wakes up stiff and aching in his groin, and sometimes a mess on his clothes and sheets.

He's fucked.

He's so fucked.

After he's decided that no he is not in love with Allen-fucking-Walker, he also wants to decide he's not attracted to that body. It's bad enough when he was young and distracted daily by Lenalee's skirts, and only after more than five years did he finally manage to control himself. She still has wonderful legs that appear in his dreams. Now there's _this_.

He still wants to punch Allen. Pummel him. Push him down on his knees and nail him right in the face.

But he also wants to strip off those clothes and…well, do something.

It's out of the question. Everything is out of the question.

Maybe the weather is playing with him too. Or just being an Exorcist in general. It's a typical boring missions but he does like it when he can wield Mugen and they work as one. His blood hums in his ears and he actually feels alive.

He just had to glance over at the beansprout when they're done. Allen, muttering to himself, and rubbing his face, shoulders heaving and face flushed. He's yanking at the collar of his coat just as Kanda looks at him.

The sight of blood-red lips and that neck sends a rush through him. Thankfully his uniform is a long coat that hides everything, but he's instantly uncomfortable.

So, Kanda punches Allen. They slip in mud and go down, and then Allen accidentally shoves a leg against his thigh, which sends all sorts of interesting signals throughout his body. Signals that he desperately wants to ignore.

They stop there. Kanda more or less throws Allen into a tree and storms away back to their hotel.

Shower. A nice, cold one. He's not injured but he's hot and aroused and embarrassed and mad at his own body.

**_-|||:|||-_**

What do you know, the shower is doing nothing. He glares down at his erection, shivering a little because of just how cold the damn water is.

…

Fuck it.

He twists the knobs until the water's warm, and then after rubbing his hands in soap, he reaches down to grasp himself. He pictures soft lips but callused hands, firm buttocks, and that pleased smile. His hand kneads his balls and he chokes back any sounds.

This is the option that some other people used. Screwing with prostitutes. Paying for certain "massage" services. Except none those can replace what he sees in his mind's eye. White locks of hair tumbling around a small face, with gray eyes that seem to read him too well at times…

His hand is slick with soap, water, and probably pre-come. He strokes faster, forehead pressed into the wall as the water mists and beats down on him.

He doesn't hear the door.

Only when he hears another faucet does he freeze and then yank the curtain back. "What the _fuck_," Kanda spits out, dignity in shreds and still horribly stimulated. "The door was locked!"

Allen merely lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "I want to get something from the bathroom."

"Couldn't it have waited?" Um, he's standing here with his cock out. If he attempt to cover himself, that would look even more stupid. "Get the fuck out."

"What if I don't want to?"

Kanda stares. Did this idiot of a beansprout lose his mind?

Allen is calmly rolling up his sleeves—Kanda can't help but note his wrists—and then he's washing his hands in the sink. Deliberately. "I'll be out in a few minutes. I just can't stand having my hands dirty when I'm eating."

He wants to bash his head against the wall. Or something. This is awkward and completely _stupid_. And his stupid erection is still there, insistent in its aching. "I want you out."

"In a few minutes, I said."

"_No_." Not bothering to turn the shower off, Kanda steps out, intending to grip Allen by the collar of his shirt and throw him out so he can fucking finish himself.

He doesn't except Allen to duck, stick a foot out to trip him, and then pin him down on the tiles. Actually, he didn't even think Allen really had it in him. Half the time, Allen takes the punches and punches back, but he's always escaping. Personal boundaries or something. But now, he has his elbows pinched to Kanda's arms, and a knee in his gut.

Kanda growls as he struggles. "Get off me."

"Then let me stay." Almost serenely, if not for the glow in his eyes.

"What are you, a pervert?"

Allen raises an eyebrow. "Says the one getting off in a shower."

"A private shower. This isn't a communal bath, Beansprout."

"Still, you never know who could be coming in. And it's Allen." Damp hair clings to Allen's face, and the white shirt he wears is half-transparent from the humidity. Kanda can make out the outline of nipples and a navel, and he has to snap his eyes back up. "You ought to be more careful."

He tries to shove his leg up, but his position makes it impossible. "I don't need a beansprout lecturing me. Get the fuck off me, before I decide to shave your stupid white hair and—"

"And what? Sell it? I already told you—your hair would bring in a better price."

"That's not the point. I will fucking murder you…" Kanda snaps his mouth shut. No, he can't do that either. Lenalee would kill him, and she'd have to get in line with so many other people. Fuck.

"Empty threats. I don't know, maybe if you said you'd steal my clothes or beat me until I'm black and blue, I'd be more terrified." Allen bends closer; their faces are inches away. "But you never did."

Kanda stills for a moment. "Then I'll threaten that now, and leave you half-dead."

"You can't get rid of me, though." Allen smirks. "Not before, not now, and not in future."

He grits his teeth. He wants to punch that self-satisfied grin off that smug face.

"But I'm curious about something. Something I've been curious for a while." Allen shifts a little, one knee drifting dangerously close to Kanda's groin. "And I could be reading it wrong, but—"

"_What?_"

"That there's something you're not telling me."

Before Kanda can reply, Allen's knee is rubbing against his balls, and he makes a startled sound before clamping down as his toes curl.

"You hate me. I know that. But there's something else."

Still no reply.

"Did you forget who my master was? He didn't teach me this, but the places he was in…I picked up some things. And I can tell when people want to kill me. Or, if they want _me_."

His erection is stiffer than ever, and he finds it hard to breathe when Allen Walker looks at him with those eyes. "Am I close?"

Kanda struggles anew. "Just get off me."

Much to his surprise, Allen does. Kanda snaps and immediately stands. His composure is…well, still there because he's holding on to it. Even with a red face, elevated heartrate, and aching cock.

"Yes or no, Kanda," Allen patiently asks. "Just to satisfy my curiosity."

"None of your damn business." Even as he says it, he knows he's giving himself away.

"I think it is my business, unless you want to kick me out and we'll not speak of this again, or—" A pointed look at his nether regions. "We could do something."

His erection twitches; he nearly puts a hand over himself.

"Maybe I'll convince you?" Allen steps up and before Kanda can say anything, kisses him. Not one of those cute, couple kisses that people do on the streets—it's a full, messy, wet kiss that shoots into his senses and overwhelms him.

For one split second, he's kissing back before he shoves Allen away, cursing and still dripping and wondering why the fuck his body feels like it's on fire.

Like it wanted that kiss to happen.

_Get out,_ he wants to say. His head spins and all he wants is release. Kanda steps back until his foot hits a wall. He cannot say it, because a part of him is curious as to what Allen is going to do.

And the beansprout can probably see it, all too well.

"This is your fucking fault."

"Is it? Then let me fix it."

"You're going to touch me, aren't you."

"Yes, that. And maybe some more."

Kanda hesitates. "…"

"…No one's going to know."

"…fine. Get on with it."

He's not sure what to expect, what to think. But he presses himself against the wall as Allen comes up to him, eyes studying him a little too intensely, before they're kissing again. The shower's running hot and everything seems to sink in that heat. A pair of mismatched hands caressing his chest, gentle pressure that eases the tension in his shoulders but awakening other sensations.

Allen pulls away. He looks as if he's going to say something, but doesn't. Instead, he lets his hand drift over Kanda's erection, the one he's been ignoring. The instant his fingers wrap around and tug, Kanda braces himself against the wall. Touching yourself and someone else touching you are two very different feelings. One squeeze and his back arches and his knees stiffen, and his pulse jumps.

He keeps his eyes on Allen's face; Allen looks back at him, expression falling in between neutral and desire. His hand pumps Kanda's shaft, steadily, moving from base to tip. A well-positioned thumb rubs his foreskin, and he has to grip at the tiles behind him.

And then Allen presses his mouth to Kanda's throat. A hot tongue, slick and wet in a different way compared from the shower, slides over his skin. It moves from throat to collarbone.

Kanda watches, mouth parted, as Allen licks the outlines of his tattoo, slowly tracing each squiggle and black line. From shoulder to the top of his arm, and then his chest. He probably can feel his heart, with the thudding that beats in his ears as he struggles to stay upright and aware. Allen's hand is still twisting him, fondling with more care than he's ever shown himself. He's thrusting into that curve, little shallow pumps that offer some relief but continues to tease at his senses. When that tongue swirls over his nipple, he fights back any sounds he's tempted to make.

Allen stops.

He opens his mouth to ask something.

The other tugs him into the shower again, before gently pushing him against the wall.

Cheek pressed to tiles that were somehow still cool to the touch, Kanda glares back. "Now what?"

"You relax."

Allen looks ridiculous, still in his clothes that were getting drenched. His hair is plastered to his skin, but his eyes are bright. Too bright.

Kanda would retort, but there is once again a hand stroking him. He half hugs the wall, fingers gripping the metal railing in the shower for support.

A finger probes at his entrance and he stiffens.

"I said relax."

"Not until you tell me what you're doing."

"…you mean you don't know how two males do it?"

"… so what if I don't?"

"Well, unlike a female, male bodies don't have…natural lubrication down there." Some slick and cold is sliding into him and he grimaces at the sensation. "So I'm preparing you."

"…Tch. I'll kill you if you do anything stupid."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Tch." He bumps his forehead against the wall.

It's just uncomfortable, even if Allen's still jerking him off. Fingers don't seem to really belong in a person's ass, and he's fighting it until Allen tells him he's done it before, and no, he's not a virgin and he's taken fingers up there as well.

Kanda's not about to be beaten. He grits his teeth and tries to think of relaxing until Allen adds a second finger. Whereupon he does moan because he just felt something that's more than wonderful.

Allen leans against him, laughing matching with the pitter-pattering of water. "Like that?"

He flips a finger, still short of air.

"It gets better."

Kanda likes his control. His temper is a loose one, but control over the rest of his emotions is something he does very well. To have it slipping away from him is almost disturbing. Allen needles him, and now he's unravelling him, slowly, bit by bit. With his fingers. One hand on his cock, and the other inside him. He rolls his hips back, uncaring of how he probably looks. Everything is wet and slick and he concentrates on how good it all feels.

He's aware of Allen dropping his pants, and something thick and heated entering him little by little and then Allen grunts, chin on his shoulder.

"Should I move, or should I wait?"

Kanda presses back. "Shut up and do something."

And he does. Skin slapping against skin, their bodies dripping with water. Kanda spreads his legs and shoves where Allen pushes, and they move together. Fingers pinch his nipples and twist them to the point he had to hold in his groans. His erection rubs against the tiles, the awkward scratchy surface, until Allen's hand snakes back to squeeze and then he's thrusting both ways for the most pressure and sensation.

"You're beautiful, Kanda. As a person. But not your personality." Allen manages to talk coherently, though his voice hitches after every sentence. "Still, seeing you touch yourself is like looking at art."

That's bullshit and they both know it. Him, art? As if. "If you appreciate me that much, do it in sile—" He gulps, shoulders tensing. "In silence." Nails are dragging over his testicles, teasingly with just the right amount of pressure to make him curl his toes.

"But it needs comments."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does."

"Fuck _you_."

"Hmph." Allen leans in close. "More like _you're_ fucked." He gives Kanda a particularly hard thrust.

Kanda's knuckles whiten. Lips suck at the skin of his neck, and when a hand runs through his hair, he softly gasps. Fabric rubs against his back, and he looks back at Allen. Flushed face and wet strands of hair brushing that scarred cheek just so, with his shirt still on, more transparent than opaque and slipping off a shoulder…

It fucking _turns_ him _on_. Clearly he's lost a part of his brain to insanity. That was it. He shoves back and there's a tingling that shoots up his spine when the perfect spot is hit. Teetering on an edge between uncomfortable and pleasure, Kanda is about to tell the other to go faster when Allen suddenly pulls away and he starts. "What are you—"

Allen shushes him. "Don't you want to see my face?"

"Why would I want to see—"

"Because I think you do." Maddening calm in his voice. Like he was stating the weather or something equally banal.

"Shows how much you know, Beansprout." Kanda kicks at Allen, who kicks back. He might be aroused and all too sensitive when it came to touching, but he still has a vicious bite.

And the rest of the day would've gone very differently if Allen hadn't caught his foot and used momentum to trip them both into a tangled wet mess. After blinking stars out of his eyes, Kanda stares up at gray eyes.

"You were saying?"

To his mortification, his erection twitches.

Allen lines their cocks together and rubs the tips with his thumb—his Innocence hand, in fact. Kanda shudders under him and tries to remember how to normally inhale and exhale.

"See, you like it."

He sets his teeth and decides say anything more at this point is stupid, so he will not. But it doesn't keep Allen from grazing his teeth over his nipples, and then over the tattoo that spans his left pectoral and shoulder.

The instant there is the scrape of teeth, he arches upwards. Allen takes the moment to slide back into him, and when Kanda comes down, he's rolling his hips in an easy motion. Kanda shoves himself into a half slouching, half sitting position, hands tangling in Allen's hair as a tongue traces every curve of his tattoo.

The skin there has always been a bit more susceptible to touches, especially the light ones that sparked something. He's never understood way, but damn the Beansprout for picking up so quickly on it. The other is thrusting his hips and pumping Kanda in time.

He stifles a cry, but can't help the guttural sound when the right amount of force sends him over the edge. His knees shoot up and the back of his skull hits the walls as his body tightens and he comes with more force than he's ever remembered. Those skilled fingers massage his cock until he fully spends himself, hips bucking senselessly. Dimly, he feels Allen quicken, sigh, and moan as he climaxes as well, fingers digging into his shoulder and thigh.

Warm water washes over them, carrying away the evidence of their…deed. After minutes—he couldn't tell how long—Kanda rakes his hair out of his face and shoves Allen away.

"Did you like that?"

"…"

Allen finally sheds his useless shirt. "Now we have two choices," he says as he stands, stretching his arms behind his back. "We could either acknowledge this, or we could forget it ever happened." He tilts his head. "What do you think?"

"Forget it?" Kanda stands as well, and he nearly regrets doing so. Hell if he's going to let this skinny brat look down on him, though. "As if!"

"Oh, good, so is this going to be a normal thing?"

"How would I fucking know?"

"At least tell me if you liked it." Allen shakes his head and flings water droplets all around them.

For a moment he wonders if he ought to punch him, kick him, or throw him out. Instead, something tells him that Allen actually deserves something better.

Instead, he kisses him. Less intensely than how they've been kissing before, but he makes sure that Allen tastes everything he's been feeling.

When he pulls back, he's satisfied that the idiot Beansprout looks uncertain.

"Next time, fucking knock." He steps out of the shower, yanks the curtain, picks up his towel, and slams the door behind him. Allen's laughter follows him out, and he makes a note to make his next day miserable, for sure.

Because fucking, if you thought about it, isn't hard. Unless you wanted to be careful, then that was hard.

But who says they have ever been careful around each other?

**the end.**


End file.
